


Kiss Me

by ishipthat



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Car Sex, Fluff, Frottage, M/M, PWP, Power Bottom, Top!Stiles, bottom!Derek, idk man what are tags, it was only supposed to be fluff, pretty much pwp???, slamming against things, sorry this prompt got way outta hand, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 16:29:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/864152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishipthat/pseuds/ishipthat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: "I just want a scene where Derek and Stiles are searching or running from something, and they’re on private property (or they’re trespassing or they’re some place where they shouldn’t be), and then a police car is going past, so they have to do the whole cliché ‘kiss me and we’ll pretend were just a couple of horny teenagers making out’ but then the car is actually the Sheriff’s car - which leads to a very awkward conversation."</p>
<p>Or, the one where Stiles and Derek accidentally make out, then make out very much on purpose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss Me

**Author's Note:**

> S'up dudes! First of all, this is pretty much my first published fanfic ~~we're ignoring the Drarry I wrote when I was 13~~ so yeah, any and all feedback would be wonderful. I am currently searching for a beta – hence, this is un-beta'd.  
>  Yeah, this little plot bunny seemed to run away with me, and I've never really written porn before, so excuse how jumpy and terrible it might be. I'm also working on the whole writing thing, so please bare with my n00bness, and thanks for checking this out!  
> ~Jake

So Derek and Stiles realise they're trespassing but this is sort of important. They're searching for a flower that counteracts the new poison the hunters are using in their bullets and arrows, and Allison had given them a heads up since she was now close enough to Derek's makeshift pack to be counted as a part of it. When Derek had spent a good week puzzling over what to do with the information, he'd gone to Dr Deaton who had pointed him in the direction of a cure. And, of course, the only place that this particular flower grew in Beacon Hills was on private property, owned by some wildlife fanatic billionaire. When Derek had found out this piece of information he didn't even seem to care, just shrugged his shoulders and continued asking Deaton to describe it.

 

Derek had asked Stiles to come along because...

 

Well, actually, Stiles didn't really know why. He'd just pushed him towards the parking lot and waited for him to unlock his Jeep, and climbed into the passenger side silently as Stiles set out for the forest.

 

He parked his Jeep in the most inconspicuous spot he could find, meaning that they had to walk quite far to get to the actual area of the forest that they needed to be in. When a tall fence came into sight, Derek lifted Stiles up by the waist and just sort of... threw him over it, following Stiles by hoping smoothly over it himself.

 

“So, why did you bring me along again?” Stiles gulped and panted, fumbling with his flashlight.

 

“You were the only other person there, and you have a car.” Derek grunted, turning away from him and edging closer to the thick clump of trees on light feet; Stiles stumbled after him and tried to stay close. If Stiles actually had his brain in gear he would have realised that Derek most certainly did not need a lift anywhere, and was probably faster without both Stiles and his car.

 

It took ten minutes of walking and Stiles tripping over his own feet in the dark. Then he'd almost dropped his flashlight, resulting in it pointing awkwardly off to his left, where, framed perfectly in the beam, the flower stood. He was about to call for Derek, who had stayed a few paces ahead the whole time, but instead found himself with a hand over his mouth.

 

“Someone's coming.” He whispered low, realising that they were in a pretty sparse area of trees and stood very little chance of trying to run for cover now. Moments later, Stiles could see the headlights of a car coming down a dirt path that he hadn't seen before. Then he noticed the blue lights that were flashing overhead. His mind was scrambling to come up with a plan when Derek was on him, covering Stiles' whole body with his own. He gritted out a quick “stay quiet” and then his lips were over his.

 

His entire body didn't seem to know what to do with having a Derek Hale plastered everywhere, his lips still on his own. A hand came to rest on the back of his neck and he relaxed slightly against the wall of muscle that was Derek. Then they were stumbling backwards, or more like, Derek was shoving him until his back collided with a tree. But Stiles's lips were still unyielding against Derek's and the police car was slowing down just up ahead.

 

Derek pulled back no more than an inch and growled at him. “Make it convincing.” He nipped Stiles' lower lip for emphasis and that was absolutely it. He was done. All his self control and confusion flew straight out the window, because Derek fucking Hale had just _nibbled_ his lip, and if that wasn't his favourite thing in the whole world then he didn't know what was.

 

He proceeded to throw both his arms around him, one clutching desperately at the back of his shirt, the other gripping at his hip, and their tongues met, lips pressing harshly together in a fierce, almost bruising clash. Derek ran his tongue over Stiles' teeth, changing angle so that the shorter boy could feel the stubble grating against him. He slowed it down so as Stiles could relax his weight against the tree. They were putting on a pretty fantastic show, Derek's hands braced on Stiles' hips, making a small grinding motion that wasn't actually making much contact. But, oh boy, if it had, this would have gotten pretty serious for Stiles, pretty quick.

 

There was the sound of someone – a man – clearing his throat behind them and they both jumped a little before turning around to see-

 

none other than Sherriff Stilinski himself, and a younger female officer by his side. When Stiles saw his dad he attempted to hide his face behind Derek, but it was too late. Stiles' bright red hoodie had probably given the game away long ago, since his dad had seen him leave the house in it that morning.

 

“Mr. Hale, Stiles,” He nodded stiffly towards them. “You are both trespassing on private property. I am going to have to ask you to leave.” Derek, of course, apologized and agreed with the Sherriff, promising that it wouldn't happen again. He pulled away from Stiles and made to leave, and Stiles was about to follow suit before his dad stopped him.

 

“Not so fast, son.” And it was _that tone_ that Stiles was so used to. The one he got whenever his father caught him hanging around the station or trying to meddle in his work. “Care to explain yourself?” He had one hand on the hip that held his gun, making him gulp.

 

He rushed for an answer, dumping out the first words that came into his head. “Uh, I'm gay and dating Derek Hale. Surprise.” He put up his mock-enthusiastic jazz hands and waited for a response. He heard Derek choke on air and his dad sigh in resignation.

 

“Just... be safe. And be home before 11. And no going back to his house alone!” The female officer by his side seemed to be getting quite a kick out of the whole situation. “I'll be watching after you, Hale.” He warned, retreating to the car.

 

Stiles and Derek exchanged looks and began heading back to his Jeep. They walked in eerie silence, Stiles finding it hard to think of anything to say beyond 'wow can we get back to that kissing thing now', because he knows it was just part of an act to make them both look more like a pair of horny teenagers rather than suspicious criminals. But the whole biting his lip and shoving him against a tree thing had totally worked for Stiles.

 

When the Jeep was in view Derek let out a weary sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We'll have to come back again tomorrow.”

 

“Why?” Stiles chirped, trying to sound casual.

 

“We didn't get the flower.” He said, like Stiles was being oblivious.

 

“Oh, that! No, yeah, I got one.” He pulled the flower delicately from out of his pocket, showing it to Derek. “I picked it up after my dad left. I was about to tell you I'd found it when you-” Yeah, that's where Stiles engaged his emergency break, a flush crawling up the back of his neck. Both of them looked away awkwardly and neither said a single word.

 

Stiles opened the car door, depositing the flower in his unused ashtray and turned to confront Derek, “Look, dude, I know that was all a plan to make us look innocent-” Derek looked mildly taken aback that Stiles wasn't trying to just ignore the incident completely, and stepped around the car to glare at him. “And I totally respect that you want us to forget it and move on. And I guess I'm trying to say I'm cool with that. Kind of.” He coughed and edged backwards to press against his car, feeling like Derek was trying to loom over him on purpose.

 

And before he knew it Derek was all up in his personal space again. “You think that's what a want.” He was trying to provoke Stiles, that much was obvious, but why, Stiles would never know.

 

“I guess?” Stiles wilted a little against the Jeep, his voice coming out as nothing more than a croak.

 

There was a sharp bang caused by both of Derek's palm slamming against the metal of the Jeep, either side of Stiles. He leaned in, scowling at Stiles, and rumbled low in his ear, “You really try my patience sometimes, Stilinski.” The boy squeaked and tried not to let Derek know how much the 'being pinned to things' thing really, _really_ worked for him, wow. “You always assume things. You talk almost constantly. And you're so damn annoying because I can't even get rid of you.” Stiles exhaled. “I... don't want to get rid of you.”

 

“W-what? What are you even-”

 

“Why do you think I brought you along tonight? It wasn't for your car, Stiles. It was for your company. Because, despite how irritating you are, you still seem to be the only person I can stand to be around.” At this point Derek had pulled back a little and was looking into Stiles' eyes, arms still planted firmly around him. When Stiles blinked a few times, confused expression etched firmly onto his features, Derek let his forehead fall onto Stiles' shoulder.

 

Stiles snorted out a laugh. “You have got to be kidding me. I'm standing in the woods, at night, with an Alpha werewolf snuggling into my shoulder after my freaking _dad_ caught us making out. And we're not even dating!”

 

When Derek spoke again his voice was surprisingly quiet, and gentle. “Is that something you'd want?” He could hear the hitch in the boys heartbeat, and knew before he answered that he was obviously in favour of the notion.

 

But, instead of replying, Stiles slipped a hand behind Derek's neck and pulled his face up to meet his own. The kiss was soft and momentary. Derek pulled away to inhale the scent of Stiles's neck, nipping lightly at the skin. Stiles fought back an involuntary noise and dug his fingers into Derek's own neck. It didn't take long for him to catch up, and by then he was peppering kisses over his neck and jaw, stopping to bite lightly and suck bruises when he felt like it.

 

That time Stiles did groan, and Derek bucked his hips against Stiles in response, grinding in slow, steady motions. “Fuck.” Stiles let out when Derek slid a hand under his shirt, fingers tracing his stomach. “You might want to stop that unless you me to jump you in the middle of the woods.”

 

Derek laughed, planting a kiss on his lips. “What about me jumping you in your Jeep?” He let his eyes flash red and Stiles groaned again. “Ugh, not fair.” He pouted, pulling Derek in for a long, deep kiss, needing his hands into Derek's ass and pulling them impossibly close together.

 

Stiles' Jeep wasn't exactly the roomiest car in the world, but they made it work. Stiles climbed into the backseat first, pushing his back up to the door – the door handle digging awkwardly into his back – and Derek crawled in between his legs. He somehow managed to close the door behind him with his foot and Stiles squirmed in anticipation.

 

“Oh my god, I can't believe this is happening. Oh god, I'm about to have car sex. With you. Derek Hale. A werewolf... I should not find that hot, but, sweet holy Jesus, that's _hot._ ” Derek glared at him right the way through his monologue and instead of telling him to shut up, he decided that this time he'd make him.

 

He started by trailing a hand up the inside of his thigh, fingers dancing over denim, and stopped when he reached his zipper. He cupped his hand over the outline of his already hard dick and Stiles let out a long, deep groan, pushing up into Derek's touch. “Shit, Derek.”

 

“Stiles,” He whispered, pushing himself up to go in for a kiss. Stiles tongue was warm and eager in his mouth, taking all the heat that Derek would give, and he let his hands find the bottom of Derek's shirt and pull it up. He broke the kiss in order to remove it fully, and Derek found himself doing the same to Stiles.

 

When Stiles's eyes finally settled on Derek's torso he felt a blush burning the tips of his ears. “You've got to be fucking ki-” He was cut off when Derek begun undoing his zipper with his teeth. “This is so illegal, my god.” And all Derek could do was smirk up at him, splaying his hand over Stiles' hot chest, swiping a thumb quickly over his nipple.

 

The best part about this, in Derek's opinion, was that he got to hear all of Stiles little hitched breaths, every choked off moan and curse. He got to feel him taught and unguarded and wriggling beneath his hands. He got to make him react and respond to every single little touch he gave over. He was in complete control and all Stiles could do was lie back and take it.

 

Derek pushed Stiles' pants out of the way and teasingly mouthed at the thin cotton of his underwear, listening to the sound of Stiles' breathing speed up. In a swift motion he pulled away his pants, then his own, leaving them both in their boxers. He changed position so that he was straddling Stiles, pinning him down, and he was faintly aware of just how small the Jeep was, but he really couldn't muster the engery to care.

 

He sat up over Stiles, putting a hand back to his chest, holding him in place, and rolled his hips down onto Stiles in one fluid motion. He felt Stiles try to push up in return but the hand on his chest was stopping him from getting any real leverage. “D-derek.” When he spoke, Stiles's voice sounded absolutely, beyond wrecked, and it sent sparks of pleasure through Derek, to know that he was the one to make Stiles whimpering and breathless.

 

Derek was pretty far gone himself, to give Stiles credit, and there was something about the way he blushed and let his body respond to touch in whatever way it wanted that was driving him crazy. “Lube?” He forced out between gritted teeth, building up a steady rhythm of thrusting down onto Stiles.

 

“Hand lotion, dashboard.” He gasped, watching Derek scramble to the front seat, retrieving the small bottle of lotion. And Stiles had never been more happy in his life that he was a real priss when it came to having soft hands.

 

Derek fell back into the backseat and knelt up, legs either side of Stiles' thighs and Stiles watched in anticipation. But the feeling of Derek pulling down his underwear and pressing a cool finger into him didn't come. Instead, he watched with wide eyes as Derek shoved his boxers down, coated his fingers in lotion and reached around behind himself. First of all, there was the sight of Derek's hard cock, flushed and hanging heavy between his legs. Then, there was the sound of his guttural groan as Stiles surged up for a kiss as he wrapped his hand around his cock.

 

Most importantly of all, there was the image, forever saved in his mind, of Derek fucking himself down onto his own fingers. Stiles reached around Derek to press his fingers next to Derek's, not entering him, but instead feeling the motion of Derek's own fingers sliding in and out with ease, despite the lack of decent lubricant.

 

“Oh my god, Derek you have no idea how fucking hot you are.” Stiles moaned, trailing wet, open mouthed kisses down Derek's bared neck. He started a steady rhythm, slowly pumping Derek's cock, smearing pre-come over the tip, and kept his eyes trained on the look on Derek's face. It was so free, so open and careless, that Stiles couldn't help but be proud of the fact that he was the one to do this to Derek.

 

In a sudden movement, Derek batted Stiles' hand away from his cock and removed his fingers, holding Stiles down. He grabbed the lotion, growled for Stiles to lose the underwear and slicked up Stiles' neglected cock. Before Stiles could even anticipate what was about to happen, Derek was sliding down onto him, blunt nails digging into his chest.

 

There was a quiet moment, where the only sounds they could make was between heavy breathing and soft moans, as Derek sat, impaled on Stiles' dick. Their eyes found each other and it was almost too much for Stiles; too much so that he had to gulp and looked away, his eyes finding Derek's flushed chest instead.

 

He couldn't really think of what had lead them to this moment – aside from the flower and, god forbid, his dad being on patrol – but Stiles was pretty damn thankful for all the little things in his life that had lead him toward Derek grinding himself onto his cock. He worked himself onto Stiles' cock in slow thrusts, then when he was content with the pace he had built up, he changed angle, leaning forward to latch his mouth onto Stiles. The slightly change in angle seemed to make all the difference because within seconds he was making sounds that sounded like they were being punched out of him, moaning loudly into Stiles' mouth.

 

And Stiles, for all the world, would not have guessed Derek to be loud in bed. Or, well, car. But the principle still stood. Mind you, he still couldn't quite believe that Derek was apparently a power bottom either.

 

Stiles could feel the heat pooling low within him, and he could tell that he wasn't going to last long. He clutched at Derek's hip and gasped out, “I'm not- I can't last.” Panting over the sounds coming out of Derek's mouth.

 

Then Derek sat up more, dragged Stiles until he was laying flat against the seat, shoved him down with one palm flat on his chest, and... well, went to town, really. He threw his head back, rolling his hips down faster, and wrapped his hand desperately around his own cock, working it in time with his thrusts.

 

“Shit, oh _fuck_ , Stiles. Nnng, gunna-”

 

“Jesus, Derek,” Stiles practically sobbed. And then Derek was coming, nails scratching desperately over Stiles' chest, clenching hard around his cock. It didn't take more than a few thrusts before Stiles was coming too, buried deep in Derek and sounding considerably close to passing out.

 

It took a few minutes, Derek collapsed on top of Stiles, before either of them could move; then Derek was pulling off of Stiles and reaching to grab the nearest pair of underwear (which happened to be his own) to clean up the mess. Fortunately, none of Derek's come got onto the seat, but it was plastered all over his chest and stomach. Everything felt sticky and Stiles would've been content to stay like that forever, splayed out in the back of his Jeep, with Derek cuddled to his chest. But Derek had to go and ruin it.

 

“Shit, Stiles, it's 11:15.” Stiles was already in the dog house with his dad because of the events of that evening, and he really didn't fancy the notion of being grounded at the ripe ol' age of eighteen, so he hurried to find all the clothing he could. They eventually decided it would be easier to exit the car in order to get dressed, and the cool night air was a fresh relief against their hot skin. It took all of five minutes until they were on the road, heading back – within the speed limit – to Stiles' house.

 

Stiles now arrived at the time of the evening where he was about to over think everything. Did this mean they were actually dating now? And if they were, was it ok to tell everyone? Was it within his rights as boyfriend to invite Derek to stay the night? Were they even using the word boyfriend?

 

“You're unusually quite.” Derek broke his stream of thought. “It's unnerving. Is something wrong?”

 

Why did Derek have to sound so vulnerable when he asked him that? “Uh, it's nothing really. I, um. I was just wondering if you wanted to stay over. For the night. And... shower? Or whatever. You don't have to, it's was just an idea.”

 

“Stiles, I want to. Although, I'm mildly terrified of your dad-”

 

“Oh my god, you're scared of my dad?”

 

“Well, yes. He is the Sheriff, he could have me arrested.”

 

“Under what charges?” Stiles snorted.

 

“And plus,” He continued, ignoring Stiles. “He's your dad. I want him to like me, not threaten to shoot me every time I come over.”

 

“Oh, come on, my dad isn't that bad. Well, ok, maybe he would be, but he’ll like you, don't you worry. Just be your gentlemanly self, and leave all the werewolf growling for the bedroom.” Stiles sent him a wink as they pulled up into the driveway. Luckily enough, his dad wasn't home yet, but he could tell he wouldn't be far behind.

 

When they got to the front porch, Stiles turned to Derek. “So...” And Derek, being the unhelpful sod he is, just raised an eyebrow. “Does this mean we're boyfriends now?” Yeah, Stiles did not mean to blurt that out. At least, not in such a blunt fashion.

 

“That depends.” Derek smirked. That smooth little bastard.

 

“On what? Come on, Der, you're killing me here. Throw a drowning man a life jacket, would you?”

 

“It depends on whether you want me to be or not.” And there it was, the self doubt that showed itself in the form of Derek's ducked head and quiet, doubtful words. It would almost be adorable if he wasn't so bloody damaged in the head. A guy would have to be insane not to go for a guy like Derek.

 

“Of course I want you, you giant puppy.” Derek didn't seem to know if he wanted to smile or frown at that, so he was stuck somewhere between. Stiles wouldn't have him any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr [here.](http://ishipthat.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Also, for the record, I can't remember who prompted me since it was like... a whole year ago. Seriously, that's how much I procrastinate.


End file.
